Divorcing Shame
Shame is something I said goodbye to a long time ago because its very premise is based on lies. Lies that I am strong enough to admit and lies that society has decided to hang on my neck.
The lies?
That I’m incapable of experiencing unfortunate situations outside of my control. That I am incapable of making mistakes. That I am perfect. That I will not grow and that I know everything I need to know to live life in its totality.
Shame and I aren’t friends anymore, we were a long time ago. When she wore me out with her loud and obnoxious voice. I remember shame sitting so heavy on me that I would be unable to talk. Now that I think about it, nothing traumatic had happened. I had no reason to feel shame. I was insecure and I had low self-esteem and that invited shame to take center stage. As I go back and forth in my mind; I realise that anxiety came first and then shame followed. I read somewhere that you must treat anxiety like a guest, create boundaries. And like every guest, it must leave. Well, I wish I read that quote sooner because not only did anxiety overstay her welcome, in my case, she brought friends — shame being the most prominent friend.
Shame showed up in my inability to meet my parents’ expectations. My deep-rooted unkindness towards myself. I didn’t give myself permission to laugh as loudly or as deeply. I was always conscious of other people’s thoughts and feelings towards me. Shame didn’t allow me to wear colour!! There was a time in my life I hated bright colours because I thought I was too dark and I felt it drew too much negative attention. It was very crippling.
I went to an all-girls school in Nigeria from the ages of 10–13 which I DO NOT RECOMMEND. Shame was a big part of how they groomed us. We were taught to be ashamed of our bodies, ashamed of our hair, our nails, our instincts as we started to meet and get to know boys. I got in trouble for having long nails, I got in trouble for the number of cornrows in my hair. A girl hugged her friend outside the school gates. He was a boy. She got expelled – just to paint a picture. And I was never a rebellious child and so I would work hard to stay within the lines, trying my hardest to conform and that did more harm than good.
Then I moved to a mixed school, a boarding school from the ages of 14–16, and here shame was also deep-rooted in the order of things. They would announce the top 5 students from each class and the bottom three from each class in front of the entire school at a special academic assembly and guess who was almost always in the bottom three? Yours truly *takes bow*. I was in that school for 3 years. 3 years with 3 terms each and out of the 9 terms I’m pretty sure my name was announced in the bottom three 7 times. The Bible says “it was good for me that I was afflicted” and the more life I live, the more I fall in love with this quote because it rings true. The first few times of being called last in class were gut-wrenching, like the closest thing to depression I ever felt. I was miserable, I was away from home. I had been told not to speak to boys in my former school to now being in class with boys and adolescent boys are not kind and that’s putting it mildly. They are deeply unkind. I’ve talked about the bullying from the girls but the bullying from the boys is different because, by my small understanding of the world at 14 years old, boys were supposed to desire me, but I was ugly and now to everyone’s knowledge I was dumb so where does that leave me? The boys interested in me would hide me because I mean, I wasn’t very pretty and I wasn’t very bright. ALL of this while trying to get my education in an institution that was not wired to understand the strengths and weaknesses of each student and help them succeed despite their differences or learning disabilities or challenges etc. It was too much.
Sidebar: when I got to England (ooop, privilege) I saw educational therapists who informed me of my mild learning disabilities with cognitive tests and other forms of therapy. I also learnt that each child could be 1 or more of 4 things. An athlete, a musician, an artist, or an academic. If you can discover their strength and make them aware of it, the rest does follow. Shout out to St Cats for not allowing me to do life thinking I was stupid. The girl is an artist, clearly!
Shame was winning by a landslide and I was too far behind to catch up so I stopped playing. I just stopped caring. Shame had lost its sting and I had entered nonchalance. The first time I realised how little I cared was when I got called for the bottom 3 and I threw up gang signs 🤟🤟. A friend of mine fainted that day, which is still hilarious to this day. It was her first time, she fainted and I threw up gang signs 😭. People clowned me for being nonchalant. A lot of those people are nowhere to be found now. Not saying they aren’t doing well, I’m just saying I don’t see them around anymore. I’m sure they are happy and blessed. After that happened I just started to do more of the things I enjoyed. I started writing. I wrote poetry. A made a perfume out of oils, glitter, and flowers (it was terrible but great for that time) and then I started taking photos. I took photos of things, of friends, I made memories and I started to find myself. I was still shit at school but at least I was finding myself and a lot of who I am today, I started to discover after I divorced the idea of being ashamed.
If you know me today, I care very little about what people think of me. I honestly have gotten to a place where my voice & the voice of the Holy Spirit are the only voices that truly matter. Why? I have learnt that shame is a powerful tool that can ruin your life if you let it. The fear of caring about what people think has forced people to experience HALF of their God-intended potential. It has forced people to only see one-tenth of the beauty this world has to offer. People want to do things in life but a stifled by not wanting to be embarrassed. Now and then I remember hearing my mom’s friend who had 3 unmarried daughters at the time say she would not celebrate herself with a big 60th party because her daughters are unmarried and she doesn’t want people to talk about her. Can you imagine? Can you just imagine that? I cannot even begin to unpack how that makes me feel. People want to do things and go to places, but they are looking at the faces of others for approval. How about you sign your own damn release forms and free yourself and do you, sis, how about that. What’s the worst that could happen? Really? You will look stupid? You will fail? GOOD! You’re human, it’s inevitable. Have a season of looking stupid, have a season where you failed but get back up and go again.
Recently I decided I love getting dolled up and posing for brands in front of the camera. I’ve done it once, I will probs do it again and again. Because it’s fun, it’s me. I don’t know why I’m doing it exactly, the old me would have been crippled by the fear of people calling me an attention-seeking weirdo. Today I could not care less. I’m a weirdo that enjoys modeling even though I don’t have a model body. I have a regular-ass mom body and that’s ok.
Society loves to tell women a lot of bullshit that happens to them is their fault, leaving them to carry the shame and weight of other people’s actions. Society tells women they are too old to be unmarried and forces them to see their singleness as something to be ashamed of. I have seen, first hand, the damage that does to women, it breaks my heart. IMAGINE a world that celebrated women growing and glowing regardless of where they found themselves. I see a lot of women who deep down, have no interest in children having children because ‘its the right thing to do’, the right thing for who? Society tells women that they are too old to try new things, women are expected to wind down at 50. I will insert my superhero, Rupi Kaur’s Timeless poem here as the perfect retort.
Shame was deeply embedded in my upbringing because shame is one of the pillars used to raise female children in my culture. I cannot tell you how many times ‘what would people say?’ was a legit reason to not do something or be something. I want to be a photographer “that’s nonsense, besides what would people say?”. I want to wear an outfit “people at church will say I didn’t raise you properly”. I heard it enough times that I internalised other people’s opinions and gave them the front row seat to my life. My parents had other valid reasons for saying no to things and thank God they did. ‘What would people say’ quickly became a nonfactor for me because I realised people will say what they want to say REGARDLESS of what you do, so you might as well do you.
I have a lot more to say on this topic. I want to talk more about mom shame, cancel culture, and all the insane ways society shames women or men when their husband or wife steps out on her/him etc. But the real message is, ask yourself, why do I care so much what people think? What happens if I stop caring? What will that look like for me?
When I tell you there is peace on the other side, sis?
*Flips hair*
